


K nife

by BD99



Series: Tumblr Prompts [16]
Category: Labyrinths of Astoria (Visual Novel)
Genre: An abused door, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Cultural Differences, F/F, Gorgons (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inappropriate Behavior, Pick-Up Lines, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, too many knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29332011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BD99/pseuds/BD99
Summary: These little notes were often accompanied by other things. Little giftbags filled with pretty jewelry, or the paper from a bouquet of flowers. Sadly, stabbing flowers to a door had proven not the best way to deliver them, given they were spilled over the ground. That had made Alisha laugh. Somehow, a psychopath stabbing gifts into her door was proving to be the healthiest, potentially non platonic relationship she’d ever discovered herself in… how fucked up was that?
Series: Tumblr Prompts [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940980
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the prompt: How do you think Euryale would court the MC? #knifewifesquad

The first time Alisha came home to a knife stabbed through the door, she explained it away as a prank. What else was she meant to do? She’d just come home from the movies, a rare treat on her off day, only to find some strange dagger buried in her door, holding the most uncomfortable note to the wood.

“I want to eat you.”

Ok, so it was weird to pin that to someone’s door. It had to be some teenager playing a prank. So, she pocketed the knife (her first mistake) and wrote it off as nothing more than troubled kids. Besides, it was a pretty knife, despite its simplicity. With a pommel and guard made of gold, surrounding a stained rosewood handle, leading into a straight blade. An aged blade, judging by the knicks on it. She could feel how balanced it was, the handle worn. It didn’t quite fit her hand, yet something about it felt feminine. Perhaps the fact those worn places suggested the hand wielding it was smaller than hers.

The second time she found a knife, she texted May about her crazy ex boyfriends.

“Do you live in a Cornfield? Cause I’m stalking you.”

So, that was fucking creepy and entirely corny. Maybe she’d have laughed, if that was dropped in person, but not when it was stabbed through her door with a fucking fantasy kukri! This knife seemed to be built into a horn, with a harshly angled blade. Bone held half the length in place, the forehead of a goat. With the actual blade breaking away at a right angle. Even without knowing what she was looking at, Alisha recognised this as far more primal. She could only hope the staining wasn’t blood.

The third time she received a blade to the door, she almost laughed. Almost. Her day had been so utterly insane. From being dragged into a relic retrieval alongside an actual arrest, to dealing with Herc. She was tired, she was sore, and… she couldn’t even put words to how she felt. After seeing those scared eyes as Herc and his team tore the frightened woman into the back of their car. It sat wrong in Alisha’s gut, churning like noxious smog. Nauseating but not enough to bring her to her knees. They were doing the right thing, even if she didn’t like her co-workers. This monster had stolen from the Gods. They deserved to be imprisoned… right?

“Your boss is an asshole. Stab him with this.”

Alisha only had the energy to give a watery snort. The mysterious note leaver wasn’t wrong… but the dagger left behind… Alisha thought she’d understood sinister, understood the phrase less is more. This blade proved her wrong. A stiletto dagger. It was simple, darkened metal, the guards shaped almost like teardrops, flowing into the most perfectly fitting hilt. Plain. Slim. No decorations, no fluff. Just steel, right down to the slender blade. Alisha could have mistaken it for some medieval hair pin, if not for the note.

The most terrifying thing was how right it felt in her hand.

The notes continued, each accompanied by knives, varying from practical methods to assassinate everyone bothering her in her life, to the most extravagant pieces that made her hands tremble to even touch. Delicate floral engravings. Hilts woven by shaped wire, galloping stallions, lithe hounds. Each accompanied by the most ridiculous messages, pickup lines that were so cringey that Alisha couldn’t help but cackle out loud at them.

“I heard you like tofu. Me too, but only with fk at the end.”

“Us women should stick together. Thigh to thigh.”

“I’m looking for treasure, can I check your chest?”

But then where those solid blades. Those simple hilts, those straight forwards blades. Weapons meant for nothing but effectively and ruthlessly slaying their enemies. Weapons worn by what felt like a hundred years of … dare she say it, loving use. There was no other way to explain the level of care these weapons had clearly been given… until they were stabbed into her door.

“If Athena looks at you funny, stab her eyes out.”

“H.E.R.A fucking sucks, but you don’t!”

“If you want to take over H.E.R.A, I will cut them all for you.”

“You’re better than those arseholes.”

“If Hercules keeps leering at you, I’m going to cut his dick off with this dagger’s twin.”

These little notes were often accompanied by other things. Little giftbags filled with pretty jewellery, or the paper from a bouquet of flowers. Sadly, stabbing flowers to a door had proven not the best way to deliver them, given they were spilled over the ground. That had made Alisha laugh. Somehow, a psychopath stabbing gifts into her door was proving to be the healthiest, potentially non platonic relationship she’d ever discovered herself in… how fucked up was that?

So… Alisha’s life was going to pieces, along with her door. She seemed to have three extra peepholes, which she’d simply ductaped up from the inside. It didn’t seem prudent to replace the door, only to have more blades in it the next day. Her job, although she loved it, had become increasingly more difficult with Hercules and his team constantly at her. Truthfully, Herc’s little crush was not only disturbing, but more invasive than the stabby admirer… who she had, for some stupid reason, still not reported. What was going on with her? Was she even sane anymore? What sane person didn’t call the cops, or H.E.R.A about the medieval armory impaling their front door?

Then, there was a difference. The night was unusually quiet, as if the city was holding its breath. The air sat heavily across Alisha’s bare skin, nipping at the cuff of her blazer, which had sleeves that only came to mid forearm. The shadows were somehow darker, licking at the light they clashed with, catching Alisha’s eye. The day had been horrible, to say the least. Even Cyprin had cut in, trying to defend her from Herc’s bullshit, but Alex couldn’t watch forever. The moment their attention had been drawn, Herc had been there, demanding Alisha join him for dinner after work. She’d, of course, refused. Politely but bluntly. That had led to Herc’s typical reactions to rejection. Anger, then dumping a shitton of work on her to prevent her having a life outside of him. Truthfully, she was looking forwards to finding a note from her stabby stalker, secretly hoping that there would be a snarky paragraph about Hercules… what she got was far, far from what she’d been expecting.

What was driven into the door was a bloody spearhead! A spartan spearhead! Literally bloodied. The wet, smeared kind of bloody. She had to take a breath, then another, and another. Knives were one thing, but fresh blood? This was going too far! But the spearhead looked so well cared for, with part of it wrapped in leather, as if it’d been used as some form of war blade. Alisha instinctively knew it had seen war, that the blood on it was far from the first it had tasted. The blood was smeared in a handprint, as if the person driving the weapon in had been shaking. Hurt, possibly? That absolutely terrified Alisha, enough that her own hands shook as she delicately took the befouled note in hand, squinting to make out the beautiful cursive writing across the soggy parchment.

“Don’t call H.E.R.A”

That had her rushing to get her door open. She fumbled with her keys, muttered desperately as she slipped on a bloodied doorknob. She could see the blood around her door, the scratches, everything leading to the fact that someone had broken into her apartment. Illegal, but that didn’t matter. Not when her answers were so close. When her fantasy was possibly dying behind the door. Oh, she was so fucking off her rocker, so stupid. Everything inside her was questioning why she acted so out of character, what had the Fates woven into their looms for her to be so far removed from herself, to have not only gone against her usual behaviour, but to feel nothing was wrong with doing so? She didn’t have much time to ponder that, not when her door was swinging open. She staggered in, stumbling over her own feet with her arms windmilling to keep her upright.

It was only once she had righted herself that she looked up… and finally locked eyes with her answer.


	2. To the point.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Charybdis and Prime told me that lines of courtship were still done in human society! They even had me spend hours memorising hundreds of atrocious lines that I might woo you properly! They said romantic notes held universal intent!” Euryale went from mopey to utterly infuriated within a blink, stamping her little black flats into the pool of blood and salt water. Alisha could only blink.
> 
> “You were... you were attempting to hit on me?”
> 
> **************

Alisha’s answer was gorgeous. There was no other word that summed up everything that ran through her mind. Cute, delicate, fiery, marblesque... all fell under that uniquely gorgeous category. In a manner beyond human or Godly monster, or any Alisha had seen in her brief life.

The first thing to captivate her was unimaginably expressive eyes. Gems the colour of peach, dancing a fine line between pink and brown. Pale and captivating. Shock blew them wide, even as a weariness hardened them, and something void of sanity swum in their pale depths. There was something innocent about them, how large and clear they were perhaps, topped by a petite brow that seemed to carry the weight of the world and pale hair a shade between winter sunshine and summer dried grass. Hair with a short cut, wispy fringe and hanging in girlish pigtails tucked between delicate little ears... with little earrings shaped like a butcher’s knife from a murder scene, complete with photo realistic colour decal. The Alice in wonderland went batshit crazy theme continued with a lavender summers dress, ending just above delicate knees, leaving little black shoes suited to a child on display. Shoes bathed in blood; little bows knocked askew.

“Who are you?” The woman demanded; voice shrill. Soft looking lips, only half coated with a dappling of peach lipstick, peeled back from teeth. Sharp teeth. Teeth with the top canines extended almost like fangs, though evidently within the human vein of acceptable. An adorable, proud yet dainty nose turned upwards, thin nostrils flaring as if scenting the air for the next kill. So, it was becoming apparently clear Alice should never have left wonderland... but even on the rampage, her unique appearance still fell in gorgeous. Godly even. As if carved from the finest marble, then drizzled with a faint layer of gold so she gleamed in the light.

“That was a stupid question. I know who you are. What the hell were you thinking? Just barging in here like that! I could have turned you into... well, a museum piece! Do you know how many museum pieces my sisters have donated?”  
Something about the way she spoke of museum pieces made Alisha feel entirely uneasy. As if these pieces could feel... but that would mean... oh. Oh no. Please no.

Alisha went to open her mouth, went to speak, only for an utterly confused squeak to escape. Enough to make her want to facepalm. She was usually calm and rational, heck she faced down Hercules on the daily, but some insane chick had her squeaking. How was that even a thing? Well, she had to be real. She had a real-life Godly Monster, someone so potent she had etched her name in history, in her living room. So, she had it down to one out of three to guess from, but what would happen if she got it wrong? She had to think carefully, try to piece everything together on the fly. A beauty carved of stone, who spoke of statues as if they were living beings, with sharpened teeth? A woman who had an unhealthy obsession with knives and inflicting pain on demigods... or anything really... anybody? Why was Alisha still looking into her eyes?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you a- you’re hurt.” She’d started carefully, tilting her gaze cautiously to avoid looking as intimidated as she was, only to notice the black patch against the woman’s ribcage. No matter who, no matter what she was, she was hurt. She was bleeding all over her own shoes. Over Alisha’s furniture. And she was kind of sweet, even with the psychotic side. This was a woman who’d left helpful messages and items to support Alisha through some tough times. It made sense now why the acts were humanly inappropriate. Could Alisha really hold cultural differences against an injured woman? 

“No I’m not!” The woman’s snappiness made Alisha’s heart jump. Her insides lurched, every droplet of blood trying to relocate an inch to the left. Yet, somehow, she didn’t move a muscle. The HERA agent simply stood her ground, extending her hand as she pointed to the dark patch against the lavender.

“What’s that then?” Alisha demanded, watching the other woman lower her gaze. Peach eyes fixed on the wound for a split second, lips pursing in clear irritation. Something about it had Alisha thinking the irritation was more for the dress than the cut.

“It’s a flesh wound.”

... apparently Alisha was right.

“That’s still hurt!” Alisha finally snapped, her exasperation bursting through her human instinct to fear the godly. 

“Are you calling me weak?” The woman’s sharp demand was accompanied by an earthquake worthy shift in her attitude. The peach in her eyes shrunk, the band of colour narrowing down to pinpoints even as her eyes blew wide. A crazed monster, matched by the rows of unnaturally sharp teeth, which she had bared in a wide mouthed snarl. Something Alisha couldn’t help but smile at. Granted, she probably should have been revaluating her strategy given there was also a giant leopard seal snarling from her couch, with teeth for days and murder in its lavender eyes, embraced by a halo of lavender that betrayed it was definitely this woman’s aura... but, of course, Alisha didn’t. The longer she stared at the flex of aura, for every breath of salt and brine she inhaled, she could feel an answering tide within her. It swelled in her chest, overcoming her entire being, washing away all possibility and competition until it was the only thing that could escape her.

“Euryale.” The name tasted so right. How a word could have taste, Alisha couldn’t begin to explain. Yet, the way it rolled across her tongue, how it made her lips caress the syllables... it was the tide, an ebb and flow, the rolling of waves in her mouth to which Alisha was helpless to resist. The ancient name held such wonder, such elegance, something delicate and something fierce. Of course this was Euryale. How could Alisha have ever thought otherwise? She lacked the force of Stheno, nor held the renowned grace of Medusa. Euryale was potent emotion. The myths of her cries crumbling stone played in the back of Alisha’s mind, for if she were stone, she truly doubted she could handle anguish in such a raw form. Not if Euryale expressed it like she expressed her irritation.

“You’re not weak, at all, but you are hurt. I don’t understand any of what is going on, why you’ve been leaving me messages, or why you’re hurt, but you are hurt. I need to help you. I’m not about to turn you over to H.E.R.A. If you’d wanted to hurt me, you wouldn’t have sent me all those nice things. You’d have already done it. For now, that’s enough for me to trust you. Can you now trust me?” Alisha’s words were spoken gently, as one might speak to a nervy colt. She could only watch as peach reclaimed white, swelling until there was barely white left. Those gorgeous eyes glistened, oceans beginning to trickle from them before everything withdrew. Then, the scent was only a memory. The seal as tangible as a dream one couldn’t quite remember after waking.

“You don’t know... was my intent not clear?” The Gorgon questioned, lower lip trembling as she pouted. Alisha could only shake her head.

“Charybdis and Prime told me that lines of courtship were still done in human society! They even had me spend hours memorising hundreds of atrocious lines that I might woo you properly! They said romantic notes held universal intent!” Euryale went from mopey to utterly infuriated within a blink, stamping her little black flats into the pool of blood and salt water. Alisha could only blink.

“You were... you were attempting to hit on me?”

“I spent days researching the languages of the finest poets under their guidance, only for you not to understand their complexity?” The Gorgon continued. Alisa could only bite her lip, struggling not to laugh. 

“You... googled pickup lines?”

Euryale’s cheeks flushed.

“Prime told me that was how you wooed in this era!” Euryale whined, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. With every frustrated huff, her murderous little earrings jingled, making Alisha’s struggle to keep her composure that much harder.

“And stabbed them into my door? For weeks...”

“I read delivery should be given personal flare! Stheno said I should be direct!”

Well... she was direct alright.

“By stabbing my door... for weeks...” Alisha reiterated, voice lacking emotion. Aphrodite was going to have a field day with this. May was probably already planning friendfictons... Alisha could only facepalm.

“I had to research your patterns for months to establish an appropriate time schedule-”

“Are you confessing to stalking me? For months?” Alisha had to cut in. So, that explained some things, probably should have freaked her out too... but could she completely fault this adorable creature? Ok, so it was unquestionably out of line, something that Alisha would have to have some strong words with Euryale about, and Euryale was a poster child for sweet but psycho… but it was somehow charming too. Euryale looked very much like a teenager grumbling about a crush. All the social floundering, the sincere effort put into it. So, things were very lost in translation, but... it was kind of endearing watching an ancient godly monster try to act like a twenty-year-old.

“I was observing! I had to perfect the wedding gifts.”

“Wedding...?”

“The exchange of blades? A proposal? You accepted them... you didn’t know their meaning, did you?” 

Again, Alisha could only shake her head. No. Nope. Absolutely no clue.

What followed was a tirade of ancient Greek, spoken so vehemently it could be nothing but the most enthusiastic of cussing fits. It was accompanied by little stamps and huffs, so reminiscent of a toddler throwing a tantrum that Alisha was caught between cooing at the more twee aspects of the scenario or blushing at the few phrases she could roughly understand. She did neither. Before she could decide, Euryale’s foot came down that bit too hard in her previous mess, splattering little pink droplets across the floor. Her shoe slid through the puddle, sending the Gorgon sprawling onto the couch with the grace of a beached whale, and a terrified yelp that cut Alisha to the core. Before Euryale could stop it, a pitiful whine escaped her, degrading Alisha’s mind to one goal.

Comfort.

She sprang into action, reaching to press her hands tightly to the wound even as she broke into babbling.

“Hey, hey, hey! I am sure you’re really lovely, and would make a wonderful, erm, soulmate. But I haven’t really gotten to know you, and I really appreciate the knives, but I’m not ready for marriage... maybe we could start with something simple? Like coffee?”

It was after her verbal outpouring that Alisha realised this was the first time she was touching Euryale. Months of gifts and messages had finally led to this. It should have been ground-breaking; Alisha had expected the moment to erode the mountains. Expected her heart to seize in her chest… but everything was still. The heat of blood and comfortable curve of Euryale’s body didn’t leave her brain melted. Didn’t feel monumental the way she’d expected. It was natural, just like the act of taking breath, as if she’d been born to do precisely this.

“Coffee?” The hopeful yet confused way Euryale muttered that had Alisha practically melting. How was this twee little psychopath so adorable?

“Yep. Maybe some dinners, or some movies? Oh, do you have a phone?”

“A... phone?”

“So we can call and text. I adore the gifts, but I can’t afford to keep replacing the door, not to mention if someone breaks in, I’m only human.”

“You’re Hera.” The Gorgon whispered, looking into Alisha’s eyes. Again, the peach had swallowed the white, brimming with such profound sorrow that Alisha couldn’t resist leaning closer to press her lips to the Gorgon’s forehead.

“I’m still only human... so, coffee?” 

“Coffee.” Euryale agreed, lips pulling into a timid smile. Before either woman could process more, The Gorgon flinched, a hiss escaping between her teeth.

“And bandages?” Alisha suggested, earning some form of snort from Euryale to accompany the flush to her cheeks and the growing little smile.

“Bandages are good.”

In hindsight, Alisha probably should have asked what had happened, but she was far too lost in that gorgeous smile, in that beautiful moment of vulnerability, to do anything more than come to two very startling conclusions.

One - she was the biggest sapphic disaster to ever walk the earth.

Two - If Euyrale didn’t stop being so endearing, Alisha was absolutely fucked.


End file.
